


Lebanon, Kansas

by asexualcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03 (mentioned), Cas is family, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Fix-It, Gen, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, More tags to be added, SPN 14x13, Season 8, WIP, canon adjacent, canon ‘verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualcas/pseuds/asexualcas
Summary: Lebanon, Kansas. The absolute worst possible place to base a secret society.This was discovered quickly. It took was one run to the grocery store to realize that anonymity in this town was going to be impossible with only three of them. Sure, maybe it was easier when all the rooms were full, but now? It was three men and a loud vintage car with one road to work with.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> A story for those who, like me, did not love the 300th episode.  
> If you haven’t looked up Lebanon, Kansas, I strongly suggest it. It’s this tiny town of 300 people which is honestly hysterical to me. That being said, suspend disbelief here; I definitely make it out to be bigger than it is.

Winchesters don’t get attached. It’s one of the fundamentals of hunting; the fewer possessions the better, loneliness is safety, “home” must be mobile. It takes Dean specifically a long time to fully grow out of that mindset. Sam seems to nest immediately, fixing what’s broken around the bunker, buying perishable food and storing it in the kitchen, he even hangs his fed suit in his closet.

Dean spends the first several weeks testing the warding hidden deep in concrete before be even begins to think about things like chores and groceries. He finds and destroys the angel warding, adds to the demon-proofing, and lightens the witchcraft ban— he may hate it but, _used properly_ , he can admit it’s useful sometimes.

The brothers have lived in the bunker for three months when Sam mentions a mall in Lawrence.

“Dude, why do you need to go to a friggin’ _mall_?”

“I need clothes, Dean,” Sam replies, bitchface firmly in place. “You can only patch and wash clothes so many times before they need to be replaced.”

“Maybe you’re just not doing it right,” Dean snaps.

“Why are you getting so pissed over this?”

“Because—” Dean fishes around for his reason, and finds he doesn’t have one. “Because.”

“Good argument,” Sam replies, sass exuding from every syllable. He hesitates before continuing, his voice taking a softer tone. “You know we live here now right? This may not be a conventional house, but it’s ours. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Dean feels his frustration bubble up again. If Sam wants him to… to _nest_ , he has another thing coming.

He lets the silence sit until it’s truly uncomfortable.

“So, are you driving me or are you staying here?”

“Of course I’m fucking driving you,” Dean snaps, grabbing his keys off the table. “Let’s go.

\---

Dean feels like an idiot. He’s sitting in a food court in the middle of a mall waiting for his brother to finish shopping, playing games on his phone.

Eventually, the noise around him fades to the background, leaving Dean to his own thoughts. Why did Sam think he needed new clothes? His were no different than Dean’s; a little battered, sure, but still in one piece, still functional. Why bother with the extra weight when his were already perfectly fine?

This makes him pause, Sam’s voice from several hours ago floating back to him: _It’s ours. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon._

Damn, Sam was even better at having a home than Dean. Not that he’s surprised, of course…

 _Fuck it,_ Dean thinks, and opens the messaging app on his phone.

To Gigantor: where are you?

From Gigantor: Target

To Gigantor: i’m joining you

From Gigantor: Oh! Great!

To Hot Wings: sammy is getting new clothes, do u need anything?

Dean knows better than to expect a quick response from Cas, so he stands and starts trying to find Target. He’s wandering around for about thirty seconds when his phone buzzes again.

From Hot Wings: Jeans, please :)

From Hot Wings: Thank you

To Hot Wings: do u know ur size?

From Hot Wings: No

From Hot Wings: However, I know we’re very similar in that regard so whatever you get will be fine :)

To Hot Wings: gotcha

To Hot Wings: are you gonna be at the bunker anytime soon?

From Hot Wings: Hopefully

Dean tries to ignore the sinking in his gut at the lack of a definite time.

From Hot Wings: I would like to pick a room, if that’s alright

To Hot Wings: sure thing :)

To Hot Wings: see u soon

He feels giddy by the time he reaches his destination. Cas wants to stay! He wants a room! Sure, he doesn’t sleep, but the sentiment is still there; Castiel wants to be a permanent fixture around the bunker. Dean can’t wait.

\---

Sam and Dean return around seven o’clock in the evening weighed down with Target bags. Sam, much to Dean’s annoyance, bought a month’s worth of new flannel and something like ten new pairs of jeans, plus a few for Cas. Dean didn’t get what was suddenly so wrong with the Salvation Army, but he ended up with a new tie for his fed suit. Just to appease Sam, of course. If he felt a small surge of joy at the new item, that was his own business.

After dinner— burgers and fresh vegetables made by Dean— they retire to their own rooms. Dean keeps Cas’ jeans in the bag in his closet and the sight gives him pause; the Target bag with two pairs of his best friend’s jeans is the only thing in the space. He nervously chews his lip before thinking, _fuck it_ , and grabbing his duffel.

It barely takes ten minutes to sort all his belongings in the proper places around his room. The sight and experience makes him feel oddly empty. Suddenly, he understands Sam’s excitement to drive three hours for a damn mall.

Another ninety minutes, several trips to and from the Impala, and his room is complete. As he stands back, admiring his work, he hears heavy footsteps walking toward him. Sam turns the corner, and Dean knows, without a doubt, this is the happiest his brother has ever seen him.

He made this, his home, awesome.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his first death as a human, the Winchesters do what they can to lift Castiel's dreary spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Cas is going through a lot and there's a lot of negative self-talk, self-doubt, and a brief mention of minor suicidal ideation. All is looking up by the end though, don't worry :)
> 
> So sorry for the delay here!! I'm going to take the posting schedule out of the description of the fic and just say hopefully I'll have this all up by the time the show is back... my brain can't handle a whole lot right now but this is so fun to write so why pressure myself, right? (Huge thanks to Sarah, Shayms, June, Jo, and Madi for being there. Love y'all)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Nine Months Later

After his run-in with a reaper, Cas’ first death as a human, he’s understandably shaken. The drive back to the bunker is… awkward to say the least. For the first hundred or so miles, that is. Then, time catches up to them and the three men can’t stop talking, catching each other up on their lives. 

Once the brothers start filling him on on hunts and angels, Cas mostly listens, plagued by guilt. This is his fault. He let Metatron trick him, it was his Grace that was used to seal the gates, he’s the reason for the angels falling, for Sam and Dean needing to clean up his messes again, when will he ever—

“Cas,” Dean’s rough cadence calls him back to the present. “You good, buddy?”   
“Yes,” Cas lies. “Yes, I’m alright. Please continue.”

Dean doesn’t look wholly convinced, but he keeps talking anyway. Cas tries to listen, he really does, but he can’t. Everything that the brothers are telling him of the last several weeks is because of him. Suddenly, he almost misses the hole in his stomach.

This thought consumes him until Dean pulls into a gas station for a refill. Sam huffs into full consciousness when Dean slams his door. While Dean starts dealing with the pump, Sam turns to look at Cas in the backseat.

“I’m going in, do you want anything?”

Cas ducks his head, embarrassed. He’s starving, but Gas n’ Sip didn’t exactly pay him in gold.

“I’m alright for now. Thank you, Sam.”

He hopes Sam didn’t catch the longing in his voice, or the roaring protest his stomach puts up at his answer. His throat starts to close, a sign he now know generally preludes tears, and he takes slow, steady breaths to keep them at bay.

Cas sits alone in the car for a few minutes, working to make himself as small as possible before the brothers return. Dean sits down before Sam and Cas wants to run, just from being in the same space as another human. 

Dean glaces furtively at the door to the store before addressing Cas.

“Hey, Sam’s probably gonna want the backseat to nap,” he says, one eye still on the door. “Do you wanna sit up here? Besides, I really need to talk to you.”

Cas’ eyes snap up. He hadn’t even noticed they were trained on a spot just above his knee until that point, but there it was. 

“Are you sure?” He’s proud that his voice doesn’t quake. “I understand that’s Sam’s seat.”

“Dude, his legs are the size of a small lake,” Dean jokes. “He’ll need the back to actually be comfortable.”

The joke makes Cas scoff lightly. He has a point; Sam is truly enormous. 

He opens the back door to transfer to the front as Sam walks out of the store.

“You stealin’ my seat, Cas?” he calls lightly. Cas feels a small surge of guilty panic at the words but tries to cover it quickly.

“Only if it’s alright with you.” He kicks himself for the obvious insecurity in his voice.

“Yeah, man, totally,” Sam replies happily. “I could use a nap.”

Once the men are settled in their respective positions, they set off to complete the last leg of their journey home. Dean and Cas exchange idle small talk, Dean continually checking to see if Sam is asleep. 

Eventually, snores emit from the back seat and Dean’s demeanor turns serious.

“Cas, I need to tell you something,” he begins nervously.

He prepares for the worst; subconsciously already planning life without a home. 

“Sam’s possessed.”

The words take Castiel by surprise, to say the least. He almost doesn’t believe what he’s hearing, but Dean’s deadly serious cadence eliminates the possibility of this being a particularly not-funny joke.

“That’s… not what I was expecting.”

Dean takes a deep breath before replying, clearly steeling himself for what’s to come.

“He was dying after the trials and I couldn’t just  _ let  _ him die, I couldn’t live with myself, and I tried you but— ya know…”

_ But you were stupid enough to fall for Metatron’s ploy. You left them alone, injured, and without a friend to help them,  _ he thinks. He feels terrible, guilt eating him from the inside out.

“Who’s the angel?” But he swallows it for now.

“Ezekiel.”

Panic. Castiel’s world narrows to one emotion: panic. He looks sharply over his shoulder at Sam’s prone form. His chest is still rising and falling steadily, a hopeful sign that the being inside his body isn’t eavesdropping. He returns his gaze to the road in front of them before speaking.

“Dean, pull over.”

“What are you—”

“I said pull over,” he snaps.

Dean guides the car to the shoulder of the road gently and leaves the engine running. He looks at Cas nervously and Castiel tries to not panic outright. He decides to cut to the chase, figuring it might be easier than the alternatives.

“Whoever is inside your brother, it’s not Ezekiel.”

“What?” Dean’s tone almost makes him flinch away. He knows the venomous anger he hears isn’t directed at him, but he can’t help but take it as just another failure. One more way that he fucked up, that he abandoned his friends.  _ None of this would have happened if I were better. _

He feels the absence of his wings like a physical pain in his soul, made worse by the residual angel radio squealing in his head. He remembers hearing the numbers, the names, the screams… But he tries to focus on the dihlemma at hand; drink from the faucet of his failures rather than the firehose.

“He notoriously died in the fall.”

\---

It takes them two weeks to get not-Ezekiel— Gadreel, as they came to find out— out of Sam. During this time, Cas lingers. He selects a room in the bunker to store his bags and sleep, but doesn’t bother unpacking. There’s little chance of him being allowed to stay after all this is over and it’s not like he has a plethora of belongings anyway. 

The first few days post-Gadreel are slow. With Sam recovering from angel possession and Dean fussing over his brother, Castiel simply wanders. He enjoys the extensive library and the private bathrooms, the (more) reliable heating system and a bed. He does what he can to stay out of Sam and Dean’s way, only accepting Dean’s offer to cook for him after day three when Dean gets visibly annoyed.

The three of them sit in silence and eat Dean’s homemade lasagna. On Cas’ side, it’s anxious and tense. He feels as though he’s about to get the boot, the remorseful “you can’t stay”, and he’ll be alone again. Surely, Nora will give him his job back, but life as a human is expensive, and it will be a long while before he can upgrade from the stock room and a sleeping back.

Eventually, they finish their meal, and Cas offers to clean. As he stands over the sink, scrubbing dirty dishes, he hears the brothers enter the kitchen behind him.

_ This is it,  _ he thinks.  _ They’ve had enough of me and want me out of their hair.  _

“Sam and I were talking,” Dean starts. Cas feels himself deflate, doesn’t even try to brace for impact. “We should go to town and see a movie or something. All of us.”

Castiel pauses in cleaning the pyrex dish in his hands. Not only are the brothers allowing him to remain in their home, they’re… inviting him somewhere?

“Really?” he asks, more than slightly shocked.

“Well, yeah,” Sam says. “It’s been a rough few days on all of us, we could use some down time.”

“Before we go,” Dean interjects. “The people there think our last name is Campbell. ‘Winchester’ is still on the FBI list.”

Castiel remains silent with his brow furrowed, chewing on his lower lip. A movie night out sounds fun, and Dean did invite him… 

“You do know that Sammy and I are on the wanted list right?” Dean interjects, misreading his silence.

“Yes,” Castiel replies quickly. “Yes, I remember that.”

“Then grab your coat, sunshine,” Dean says excitedly, clapping him on the shoulder as he leaves. 

There’s a slight warmth in Cas’ chest at his words and he smiles down at the murky water in the sink. Maybe spending a night out with Sam and Dean will be good. With this thought in mind, he drains the sink, places the now-clean dish in the drying rack, and grabs his ratty coat from his bedroom. 

Maybe he can convince the brothers to do a mall run eventually…

They’re waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, both looking at him with evident fondness, and Castiel smiles back.

“I believe I’ve developed an affinity for comedy.”

“We can make that happen,” Dean replies, swinging an arm over his shoulders.

\---

Sam, Dean, and Cas return to the bunker several hours later, after one movie and several drinks at the local bar. Turns out, without mojo, Castiel’s tolerance is low, and he’s a sleepy drunk. He barely spares a glance to the brothers as he drags himself toward his bedroom, following Dean’s footsteps closely.

“Hey,” Sam stops his progress with a hand to his elbow. Cas turns to see Sam’s sincere, soft expression. “I know Dean can suck with words, but we want you here, Cas. You’re family. As long as you want to be here, we want you here.”

Cas nods, the words finally starting to ring true. After tonight, seeing the lightness of the brothers, the way they looked at him without blame… maybe this could be his home after all.

That night, when Castiel lays to rest, his jacket is hanging from a hook on his door, and his jeans are still in the washer; he can deal with it tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi! I'm @asexualcas on tumblr :)
> 
> Dialogue that didn't make it in:  
> “No, dude, take a side road!”  
> “What side road, Sammy?”  
> “I don’t know, just- not Main Street.”  
> “Sam. This is a town of 200 people and it’s 1:00 in the morning. Who the fuck is going to see us?”  
> “Fine. Just… We need to figure out a better way to do this.”


End file.
